Ebb and Flow

The bright moonlight and intermittent showers woke me up early today, 4:04am to be precise. I am probably some sort of lunatic. The days around full and new moon tug at my sleeping body, like the minute shift in gravity that forces tides to be more extreme during these lunar phases. I don’t sleep well; flop around like a grunion on a Pacific beach.

Restless, I get up and go out on the deck to make myself a cup of coffee. There is no way I am going to be able to sit quietly in the zero gravity lounger and meditate the coming day into existence. This restless gravity affected morning calls for what I have named mindless walking. I pace back and forth over the same spot for long stretches. In my current abode that space is the confines of my deck, and ell fifteen by seventeen. I can navigate this ell in the pitch dark without bumping into anything. I usually wear shoes, scorpions sometimes inhabit the cracks between the decking boards, and bits of catch and keep find their thorny way onto the piece of carpet serving as a door mat.

This morning I walk barefoot, because my Crocs are not handy. The gravel and fallen leaves that have blown and washed onto the deck crinkle and crunch underfoot. I have a sudden idea of how to keep the gravel off the deck, and am surprised it has never occurred to me before.

I let this thought go and do my back and forth, back and forth noticing the transition of light from moon to sun. I think, this moment is the cusp, when moonlight gives way to daylight. The crystal blue-white radiance of moon seeps magically into to the warm magenta tinged gold of early sun rays. The seemingly weighty cumulus of  basalt gray morph into lighthearted mouse gray fluff afloat in sky-blue pink. The upward thrust crests of the far hillside emerge from deep green black; turning from the color of a still pool in summer to a radiant golden tone reminiscent of unpolished brass. My mind is stuck on color shifts and my writing assignment. I’m working on descriptive narrative.

Then I start thinking about my lifetime relationship with the sky. I remember how much of the poetry I have written depicts the sun and moon and sky, since I was seven years old. I think, this is my constant. I want more of it.

I have lived in a lot of places, and never before this moment on the deck, walking mindlessly, could I honestly say I knew what I wanted.

I am dumbstruck because I have not been thinking of wants. I have been focused on the now, what is. In my mindless walking some interesting bits of data have risen to surface, either shaken up by the gentle jostling of my gait, or has become congealed with the constant rhythmic churning of my body, like butter from cream.

I want to live where I can see 180 degrees from northeast to southwest so I can watch the sun and moon carve their arcs through the seasons, so I will never again check the radar or turn on the weather radio except during hurricane season. I want to live where I can greet and salute the sun and moon by rising and setting with them in my line of sight. I want to see the horizon.

I have no notion of how I can realize this new awareness, but there it is. I am accustomed to these mysteries. I know now it will not leave me. I will know it in every truncated rising and setting, ebb and flow.

© 2010 Jennifer M. Pierce, All Rights Reserved

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